


Homecoming

by EttaMills



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2015-12-01
Packaged: 2018-05-04 06:48:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5324540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EttaMills/pseuds/EttaMills
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Gaby moves in and meets a nice neighbor boy. Or Illya only needed a little jealously to motivate himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> I loved this movie. It twisted my heart and now I am drowning in Gallya feels, and happy to be so.

It was a cold, rainy day, when Gabrielle Teller moved into her new London flat.   
Not that that was anything new.   
It was always a rainy day in England it seemed, since everyday that Gaby had been stationed in the nation had been like this.   
Waverly had said it was just the spring weather, but the east German girl had a strange suspension that he was lying to convince her that the decision to set up a new residence in the U.N.C.L.E. hometown was a good one.   
Gaby heaved a sigh as she watched the hired men load her newly purchased furniture into the small brick building. She did not have a lot to really move, the effect of leaving almost all of her belongings back in a iron-ruled communist state. ( A certain Russian agent had offered to go back and get her things, but when prompted, there was not a single object she could claim to miss enough to have it retrieved. Still, it was a nice gesture)   
When the men came out, calmly telling her that everything had been moved and that their services were already paid for (Waverly again), she gave a small nod and headed up the stairs.   
Closing the door behind her, she surveyed her new surroundings. A small living room led to an even smaller kitchen. The bedroom was directly to her left and it barely fit her full-sized bed and dresser. The bathroom, the main reason she had bought the place, was connect to the bedroom and held a gorgeous, large claw foot tub that she planned on soaking as soon as possible.   
All in all, it was small and old and all hers. She could not have been happier.   
That, however, lasted a second, as a persistent knock against her door disturbed her short-lived peace.   
Another important feature of her new place was the impressive locks and peephole that allowed her to check any unexpected visitors.   
Looking out, she witnessed a pale young man shaking off a large umbrella and looking nervous.   
Placing one hand on her thigh, she felt for the small gun strapped to her garter.   
" Who is it?" she yelled through the door.   
" I . . . um your new neighbor? I just saw you moved in and. . " He was interrupted by her cracking open the door and gazing at him.   
“. . Can I help you?" She was sure that Waverly had checked out her neighbors and made sure everything was safe, but still, 4 months of spy missions has made her weary of strangers.   
The man gave a croaked smile, and her icy demeanor melted a bit.   
" I just wanted to welcome you and say hello. So . . . . . hello."   
Gaby opened the door all the way and returned his smile with one of her own.   
" Sorry. Hello, thank you. I just can't be too careful. I am Gaby."   
She gestured for him to come inside, closing the door behind him. She offered him tea, but then realized that she had only been living there for a few minutes and had none.   
The man laughed nervously.   
" It is alright. I am actually on my way to work. Just wanted to catch you while I could. And I understand, one must be careful when one lives alone."   
Gaby froze and peered up at him (damn her small stature).   
" I don't recall saying I live alone"   
The man blushed.  
" Oh, of course not, I just assumed that if you were involved, he would be here helping. I am sorry, this is terribly rude. I should leave"   
Gaby did not object, but followed him out the door.   
" Oh, I am Henry, by the way. Live to your right." he said in a rush, looking like he wanted to be anywhere but there.   
The little spy, however, could not for the life of her find him threatening, so she waved him off with the promise that she was not offended and looked forward to seeing him again. Once he was gone down the street, she retreated back into her space and forgot the encounter in favor of that well-promised bath. 

Henry, however, would not be forgotten.   
He seemed to eagerly seek her out, often walking with her when they left at the same time, and striking up conversation.   
She quickly learned he was a lab technician at the nearby university, that he was older than he looked (34 to her 25 years) and that he had the usual English addiction to tea (she was having a hard time adapting, used to the strong-brewed coffee she grew up on)   
She, in turn, had told him all about herself.   
(The fake her, at least)  
About how she was a secretary to a travel-loving fashion mogul (which is why she was rarely at home), about her happy childhood in west Germany (good on Henry for not mentioning her accent until she brought it up) and how she like to blast her music to relax her ( that one was true)   
Together, they formed an odd friendship. He was there to watch her flat when she wasn't around and she had to admit that it was nice to see a friendly face who wasn't secretly a spy for a former war criminal or evil mastermind.  
And if she noticed that he had developed a little crush on her, well, it was all the same. She had no commitments to anyone else, since the one man in her life that made her heart beat like a revved-up engine and want to be as close and as far to him as possible wasn't making any moves.   
Yes, she had built herself a nice, seemingly normal life.   
Of course, she hadn't expected it to last long, so when a loud pounding woke her up on a warm summers night, she wasn't exactly surprised to find a roughed up Illya standing at her door, a bloody Napoleon at his shoulder.

" I literally just saw you two a few days ago. How can you get into this much trouble in so little time?" she asked, dabbing at the wound on Solo's head that seemed to be the cause of most of his blood loss.   
Illya glared at her from his place in her kitchen, finishing up whatever conversation he was having with Waverly.   
Hanging up the phone with a loud CLUNK, the gloomy Russian approached her just as she finished up a few stitches. At the groan of the American next to her, she patted his cheek softly.   
" Don't worry, you will still be handsome when it heals. Now sleep, so I can interrogate your tall friend"   
His response was to groan some more, mumble something that sounded suspiciously like " psychotic Russian" and pass out.   
Her chocolate gaze now rested firmly on the man looking incredibly awkward in her small chair.   
" It was not my fault" he said quietly.   
Gaby began to clean up the bloodied rages, humming " mmmhmmm" while doing so.   
" Truly. Cowboy jumped gun. Didn't see mark had backup. I got us out" Illya defended, helping her take the rages to the sink to soak.   
As he followed her, however, she stopped in a hurry, causing him to bump against her back and let out a soft grunt.  
Gaby spun on him so fast, he did not even register her hands under his shirt until she brushed against a shallow knife wound and he hissed at the pain. Her eyes narrowed when she pulled back her hand, examining the blood coating her fingers.  
" Off." she said with iron in her voice.   
" Net" he replied, equally as stubborn, " It is scratch."   
" It is an open wound and I will fix it, if you let me." she said ferociously.   
When he showed no sign of backing down, she switched tactics. Gently, she wrapped her arms around him, looking up at him with her best pleading eyes.   
" What is wrong, Illya? Do you not wish my hands on you? I have missed you while you were scampering across Hong Kong, getting stabbed" she whispered. She could feel the tension leave him, could see eyes lit up with desire. Just as he leaned down to brush their lips together, a knock on her door interrupted them.   
She huffed and moved away, listening to Illya bite out " с точностью часового механизма"  
The intruder was, of course, her friendly neighborhood admirer.   
" Good evening, Gaby. I was just getting home late and saw you were up. Wondering if you would like to catch a bit of tea . . . with. . . me. . . ." His speech dropped off as a giant blond man appeared from within her flat, looking putout and annoyed.   
Gaby saw the tall man's shadow overtake her doorway and turned to him   
" Перейти в ванную"  
" Who is this?" he asked, ignoring her command and doing his best to look the intimidating KGB agent he was.   
" I am. . I am Gaby's neighbor, Henry Rayleigh the third" the pale Englishman replied, standing to his full height, which was still a head shorted than the Red Peril.   
" Pleased to meet. I am boyfriend" he replied, slipping an arm around Gaby’s waist, which earned him a sharp elbow jab right in his wound.  
He bent over at the pain, to which Gaby gasped in surprise.   
" I am sorry Henry, my friend Peter isn't feeling well and I need to make sure he doesn't hurt himself. Maybe tea another time?" she said with a smile, not waiting for his reply before slamming the door.   
She helped the giant move into the bathroom, sitting him on the tub's edge, and this time, he put up less of a fight before she had his shirt on the ground.   
"Scheiße"  
She murmured, seeing the angry looking cut across his ribs. It wasn't too deep, so no stitches, but it had to be cleaned before it got infected.   
They sat in silence, the only sounds being the blonde’s labored breathing and the occasional swear between the both of them.   
When it was cleaned to the German’s satisfaction, she rose, tossing the man a towel and telling him to clean up while she made sure Solo was still alive.   
The American was sound asleep, and had no apparent fever, so Gaby place a pillow from her bed under his head and a spare blanket over his body, before turning off her lights and closing herself into her bedroom, secretly hoping that the behemoth would bump into something and hurt himself in the dark.   
She could not be more upset with him.   
How dare he.   
How dare he be rude to her neighbor, just because he couldn't close the deal with her?  
And how dare he claim her as his, when he knows how much she treasures her freedom and independence.   
Sure, she wanted to be something with him, but while those lines were still blurred, he should know better than try to scare off men because he doesn't like how they look at her.   
She slammed herself onto her bed and placed a pillow over her mouth to muffle her frustrated scream.   
By the time Illya had made his way over to her room and opened the door, she had worn herself out with her anger.   
The KGB agent found her staring at the ceiling, a small desk lap giving her tanned skin a golden glow and making his heart twist in the best way.   
" Don't you knock?" she asked, eyes never straying from the small dark spot on the wall.   
Shutting the door behind him quietly, he replied, " Would you open if I had?" with a smirk.   
That caused her a crack a tiny smile, shifting her gaze to meet his icy blue eyes.   
" Probably not." she paused, then " I am mad at you"   
Illya nodded solemnly.   
" I know. I apologize, but I wanted him to go away. Small men like him won't question men like me, and the last thing we need is questions," was his excuse. Her only response was to hum, not agreeing or disagreeing.   
When he gestured to the end of her bed, looking for permission to sit, she gave a slight nod.   
Yet, when silence overtook them, she became irritated.   
" Well?"  
Illya looked pained, but answered her prompt.   
" I don't know what to do. When you are near, I feel like you are not close enough. When I can't see you, I am anxious. I wonder where you are. What you are doing. I am not supposed to be this. I am Russian KGB. Iron and Ice. But for you, I want to be more. Gabrielle, what can I do?"   
In that moment, he was not the determined force, chasing her through the decaying streets of West Berlin. He wasn't the cocky U.N.C.L.E. agent, shooting through bad guys while trading barbs with Napoleon. He wasn't even the sweet undercover fiancé would offer her his coat in the cold, or hold her hand at uncomfortable social event.   
He was Illya Kuryakin, the lonely Russian man who had been told since a young age than those you love leave or betray you. All this time, he probably wanted what she did, but did not know how to say it. She was waiting for him to make a move, while he did the same thing.   
No more wait then, she thought  
She launched herself across the bed, burying her hands in his hair and kissing him with all the tension and passion that had been building since that fist night, wrestling in the hotel.   
He was quick to pick up the rhythm, moving from her lips to her neck, leaving a burning trail that heated her to her feet. When she moved to take off his soiled shirt (why had he put that back on?) he pulled away, although it obviously took everything in him to do so.   
" Gaby, what,"   
He was silence with a nip to his ear, before she looked up at him mischievously  
" You know what you can do, Süsse?"   
He quirked an eyebrow.   
" You can be quiet and help me out of these pajamas. With any luck, Solo will be out until morning, and I think you will need all night to apologize to me."   
The Russian could not remember a time when he heard a better idea. 

 

Early the next morning, Illya woke to the small German girl tracing light patterns into his chest. When he cracked an eye to peer down at her, he saw her gently smiling and studying his face.   
" What are you thinking, chop shop girl?"  
Said girl gave a small kiss to his bare shoulder before sitting up and moving so that she straddled him, his hands finding purchase on her waist.   
" I was think how incredibly Russian you look. Big muscles, blue eyes, blond hair. Like you were built in a lab or something,” she replied, dragging her kisses down his stubbled jaw.   
Illya grabbed her hair, pushing it away from her face.   
" Da? You look very German. All tan skin, dark features and wicked thoughts." he replied, brushing him thumb across her cheek.   
She moved away, rolling off the bed and retrieving her pajama bottoms and underwear.   
" Nein. I am looking English now. I have been here for almost a year now, my German tan is going pale from the British clouds."   
The blond mans face turned dark at the mention of her London occupancy.   
" That reminds. Who is this Henry the neighbor who clearly desires you?" he asked.   
She shot a look over her shoulder as she looked for her pants.   
" He is a friend. I am aware of his feelings and have turned him down before. He will get over it when another pretty face walks by, but for now, you will not go around, scaring him away. He is nice."   
" So is pitbull, until it bites" he growled, joining her search for their lost clothes.   
Then, he was pinned to the ground, his chop shop girl glowering above him.   
" Illya, I will only say this once. I want to be with you. I will happily brave whatever objections Waverly or Napoleon or whoever else has, gladly fight tooth and nail so that this, " she gestured between them, " has a chance. But I will NOT have you walking around, acting like I belong to you. We will be partners, nothing less."   
She leaned down, ghosting their lips together.  
" Ja?"   
Before he could reply, a cough sounded throughout the room.   
" Oh, thank god Napoleon is all right! We were up all night, worrying to be sure, and now we can rest easily, knowing that he is okay!" said the amused American, leaning on the entrance to her bedroom.   
" Cowboy. ублюдок" choked out the frustrated Russian man.   
" Morning, Peril. By the way, a nervous looking gentleman is at the door, demanding to see Gaby, otherwise he will be calling the police and telling them that the KGB is holding her hostage. Do you want to defuse this situation, " he looked to the composed German woman, who was already off the floor and picking out her outfit for the day, " or should I?"   
" I'll get it, you two should get yourself cleaned up, then we will head to HQ, where I am sure Waverly wanted to hear all about your mission"   
A groaned followed her out of the room, making her smile. 

" Henry. I am sorry for last night. My co-workers got into a sticky situation last night at the local pub, and my place was the closest for them to sleep at." she said, sounding sincere when she reached the front door.  
The man in front of her looked rather pale, even for his usual pasty self.   
" Those men are your co-workers? In the fashion company?"  
Gaby gave her most disarming smile, which seemed to calm the man a bit.   
" Yes. They look a little rough after a night of debauchery, but I assure you that they cut a dashing figure when given the chance."   
Henry seemed unconvinced.   
" What strange company you keep, Ms. Teller. A bloody American and a Russian built like a machine," Henry sniffed, looking slightly upset, " A machine who goes around scaring off suitors by saying he is your boyfriend with that KGB look to him"   
The German mechanic's smile became a little tighter.   
" Is that what you are, Henry? A suitor?"  
The hue of red he turned was one unknown to Gaby until that moment.   
" Well, I-I thought I made my interest clear. And-"  
A small, tan hand resting against his cheek cut him off.   
" Henry, I like you. You are sweet and considerate and a good friend. I am sorry you thought we could be more." she said, true apologetic.   
The British man visibly deflated but gave a small smile anyway.   
" I understand. I am glad to be friends with you as well. You will still have tea with me, yes?"   
Gaby nodded, before hearing the distinct sound of something shattering.   
She sighed before saying her goodbyes and turning to face whatever disaster lay ahead.

" Illya Kuryakin, if that was the vase I bought in Brussels last month, I swear you will be walking back to Belgium to get me a new one."   
" Your room is too tiny." his voice called out.  
" That's because she didn't buy it to fit large men, Peril" came Napoleon's snippy reply.   
An argument broke out between the men after that, and for a sweet moment, right before another shattering sound echoed through the flat, Gaby realized that this was the first time any place had ever felt like home in a very long time.


End file.
